


Pan Cookies

by Northisnotup



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, The Lady Emmald's A+ Parenting, bonding over shitty parents, friendship through cookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 17:26:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5384159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northisnotup/pseuds/Northisnotup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how Sera and Dorian became crazy, drunken, selfie-olympics bffs. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pan Cookies

Dorian, for his part, spent the trip from Redcliff back to Skyhold in the back of a wagon getting gloriously drunk. 

He feels tired and empty, as if he is a piece of old linen that’s been roughly washed and put through the wringer. He should have known, everything about this set up just screamed “father.” The kindly Mother receiving a heartfelt plea for him to meet with a retainer? Who of course turned out to be not a retainer at all? Classic. Varric could write a million books about the premise and still sell. 

“Oi! Fussy-britches!” Sera crashes into the cart, landing heavily on top of Dorian, squished as he is between sacs of provisions and causing the booze in his stomach to slosh unpleasantly. “Stole these from some of them hoity toitys in Redcliff ‘fore we fucked off. Here.” 

Oh. Well. That’s certainly...something. The bag that lands treacherously close to Dorian’s face is greasy and smells like burnt sugar. 

“Have one, they’re terrible.” She demands more than suggest, snapping a bite of one off herself and proceeding to chew obnoxiously in his ear. 

Dorian, in a fit of drunken recklessness or maybe a honest desire to have Sera like him, grabs one lumpy cookie at random and takes a bite. 

They are, in fact, terrible.

They were worse coming up. 

Sera, being the ever gracious spirit of compassion, shoves his head out of the side of the wagon just in time. 

“Right?” She giggles, spitting her own mouthful out beside him. “Ugh, I still friggin’ hate cookies.” 

“As lovely as this is,” Dorian manages, breathing through the worst of the hot flashes and shakes that always come with throwing up, “may I ask why you made me throw up a dessert you hate?” 

“Look, after that piss buckets with your dad I wanted to tell you something, so shut up and let me say it okay?” She steals his bottle and swings the rest of it, wrinkling her nose when she swallows. “I had a mum, or something like one. The Lady Emmald took me in. She was sick, couldn’t have kids, and I had no parents, right? Worked out. So she gets sicker and I ask about cookies, ‘cause mum’s make cookies and I could pass that down or something.” She scoffs, snapping off another chunk of cookie and chewing it, just to spit it out again. 

“Turns out, she couldn’t cook. The ones she ‘made’ she bought and pretended she made them.” When it becomes apparent that Dorian isn’t going to interrupt or tell her how sorry he is or some such nonsense she smiles wide and passes a skin of water over. “Rinse your mouth out, sicky. Anyways, she was a bitch. She pretended by keeping me away from the baker. She did that by telling me he didn’t like me 'cause I was elfy. She let me hate him jus’ so she could be prideful. I hated him so much, and I hated…” 

It’s completely possible she has no idea just how much she has leaned into Dorian’s side as she talks, passing the water skin back and forth, snapping cookies into bits and throwing them out the side for the nugs and ravens. It’s the most platonic physical contact he’s had with anyone since well before he came south. Dorian would hesitate to call it nice, Sera is bony and talks with her hands, smacking him and sloshing wine or water everywhere. But it’s far from bad. 

“And?” he nudges his shoulder with hers, stifling a yawn, bone tired now that the worst of the poison is out of his system. 

“She died, and I hate pride. Sorry your dad is shite.” 

His breath leaves like it was punched from him. “So, you heard all that, then?” What she must think of him...

She shrugs. “You were shouting. Couldn’t much help it. Anyways. I know it’s stupid, but I thought if I could share these with you, they might not be so bad anymore, cause, they would be new cookies, us cookies. The spooky ‘inverts’.” She mocks his father’s accent and tone so precisely Dorian nearly snorts water out his nose. 

“Oh, Sera.” There it is. The reason he let’s Sera make notes in his research and jokes about his arse and a million other things that should make him want to kill her. She is so Sera. 

“I know! I said it was stupid, okay?” 

“Sera,” Dorian struggles upright, it seems important to be upright for this. “I am sorry your mum was shite. But more importantly, I am sorry you have only ever had bakery cookies.” 

“Oi! What’s wrong with baker’s cookies?”

“Nothing, no that’s not the point.” Dorian waves his hands like he is clearing a chalkboard and then stares at them numbly. By the Maker she has infected him. “When you get cookies from the bakery, they are already cool and dry and crumbly, which is good, but what is best is eating cookies straight out of the oven, off the pan. When they are still chewy and melted and they’re so hot you burn your tongue on the first one. Sera. I am sorry you’ve never had pan cookies.” He misses the first time he tries to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but he lands it the second time. 

Sera blows a raspberry, but practically snuggles against him. “And what? Like you know how to make cookies!” 

“Yes I do! It’s very simple once you get the hang of it!” Dorian neglects to mention he burned two batches to near crisps and used salt instead of sugar for another. 

“Pffft. Yeah. Well. I guess you’ll just have to show me.” She snaps. 

“Fine. I will.” Dorian snaps back, wanting to pinch her sides like he would his second cousin Portia when she got uppity at family reunions. Sera would likely break his fingers though. So he refrains. Like a sober person would. Yes. 

Outside the cart, the nearest person he can shout to is the Iron Bull. If Sera heard him shouting in the tavern, there is no way the Bull could have missed it. Dorian takes a second, just a second, to mourn for the stupid comments and dumb flirting that he didn't like but counted on, those would be gone now. But he doesn’t think about it for long. He doesn’t want to. It’s not important. Sera cookies are important. 

“The Iron Bull!” He calls out, barely slurring at all. Dorian makes sure to include the article. Bull likes that. “How far are we to Skyhold? Or anywhere with a kitchen?” 

“‘Bout a day or so, why?” True to form, the Bull answers with nary a flirtatious eyebrow wiggle. Oh well. At least the practice yards were still beneath his window. 

“Sera’s never had pan cookies!” The answer seems to confound the Bull which is stupid. He should know how important this is if Dorian is asking him! “Can we get there any faster?” 

“Yeah, if you two would get your lazy asses out of my cart.” Cadash says sweetly, eyes lighting up when Dorian and Sera both jump. 

“Can you ride?” Sera asks seriously. 

Dorian scoffs. Only just managing not to sway. “Of course I can ride, Can you ride?” 

“Yeah, I can ride.” She nods and apparently the offer of fresh cookies is what it takes to make Sera serious. This is good information. 

“Boss, are you sure that is a good idea?” Bull’s very reasonable, very deep voice cuts in.

Sera flips him off. “He don’t get any of our cookies.” 

Dorian nods. “We will have pan cookies and they will be lovely and none for the Bull.” 

“Oh, yeah, this should be fun.” Cadash laughs.


End file.
